Gone to the Dogs
by Neal Wolf
Summary: Part 8a of a series. With the rest of the Rescue Rangers out of town, it's up to the Canine Squad to help out a dog being tailed. Several familiar faces... to those who know their Disney dogs... make appearances.


**PROLOGUE**

A rather large Doberman paced uneasily in the Brooklyn junkyard, watching the front gate impatiently. He knew that if his plan was going to work, it had to be executed perfectly. After close to two hours, two more dogs entered the yard, both of them grinning. "Well?" the Doberman growled.

"Like takin' candy from a baby, boss," the first new arrival replied. "Close to half'a their muscle ran as soon as they knew why we were there, an' the rest barely even put up a fight."

"What's left of 'em are now eagerly awaiting your orders, just like you told us," the second added.

The Doberman nodded. "What about the leaders? What'd you do with_them_?"

"Also taken care of, as per your instructions," the second dog told him. "The Siamese Twins are now part of the chop suey at Manhattan Wok."

An evil grin crossed the Doberman's muzzle as he chuckled. "Beautiful..."

* * *

Flash yawned as he walked into the kitchen, nails clicking on the linoleum. "Morning, Al."

Dr. Albert Drake glanced down from his morning paper and grinned at the German shepherd. "Morning, Flash; already got breakfast waiting for you. The others up yet?"

Flash gulped down a bite of kibble, then shook his head, turning back to the speaker. "They should be awake any moment. I do have a small favor to ask of you..."

"Ask away."

"Would you mind dropping us off in Central Park on your way to the office?"

Al folded his paper and laid it neatly on the kitchen table. "I don't see why not... some new case for the Canine Squad?"

Flash shrugged his shoulders, swallowing another mouthful of breakfast. "Dunno... Gadget called last night and asked us to come by the tree."

"Called?" Al asked, clearly looking surprised. "When did the Rangers get a phone?"

The dog chuckled, leaning his head back a bit to show the Ranger logo tag hanging from his collar. "After our last case, Gadget installed a two-way radio on my tag; makes it easier for us to get hold of each other should the need arise."

"Showin' off your new toy again, Flash honey?" Canina's voice came from the kitchen door, followed soon by the former star and Canine Ranger herself.

"And a pleasant good morning to you, too," Flash smirked.

Plato stifled a yawn as he trudged into the kitchen. "Oh, dash it all, are you two at it _again_?"

Al arched an eyebrow at the bulldog curiously. "Again?"

"Ze two of them 'ave been bickering for ze last two cases," Frenchie answered for him as he entered, Que Sera in tow. "Ees like zey are married, _non_?"

"_**NO**_," the former actors said in unison, quite vehemently. The pair then looked at each other, a slight tinge of red sneaking into the fur of both of their cheeks. "It's just playful teasing," Flash said finally. "Nothing serious, right, Canina?"

"Of course," she replied with a slight nervous chuckle. "We're all friends here, after all."

The human speaker looked at the two dogs suspiciously, then shook his head, seeming to dismiss the matter. "Well, eat up, guys; I don't mind dropping you off at the tree, but I've got an early appointment today... oh, and remind Tammy that she's got an exam tomorrow, so I hope she's been studying."

* * *

Four of the five members of the Canine Squad were being led... somewhere... by the other Rangers. "I still don't see the point of the blindfolds," Flash grumbled, nearly stumbling over something in his path.

"I told you," Chip explained from his position at the end of Flash's leash. "We want this to be a surprise."

Canina sniffed the air curiously. "I smell disinfectant."

"That was my doing," Gadget told her as she led her around the same obstacle that had nearly tripped Flash. "I didn't want your sense of smell to give anything away."

Plato and Frenchie, led along by Tammy and Nathaniel respectively, continued on without comment; there were plenty coming from the fifth member of the group. Que Sera found himself in a burlap sack being dragged by Monty; all of his remarks were in French and none of them sounded pleasant.

"Sorry, mate," said Monty, "but this was the safest way to make sure yore surprised, seein' as 'ow we still can't make heads or tails of ya most'a the toime".

After some distance, the procession came to a halt, guide rodents climbing onto the dogs' backs and Monty standing by with the drawstring holding Que Sera's sack closed. "Okay, everybody, on three," Chip announced. "One..."

"Two..." There was more than a hint of excitement in Gadget's voice.

"_THREE!_" The dogs stared in wonder as they got their first look at their new surroundings; they currently stood in what looked much like the main room of Ranger Headquarters, except scaled up to their size.

"By Jove," Plato said, awestruck. "Where are we?"

"Under the Ranger Tree," replied Chip. "The family of moles we recently helped out did most of the excavating, then Gadget and Tammy hooked up all of the equipment." He indicated a nearby passage. "Down there is a kitchen and sleeping quarters."

"Sleeping quarters?" This struck Frenchie as odd. "Will we no longer be staying with ze doctor?"

"I talked it over with Al last week," Gadget grinned. "As much as he loves having you guys around, it's getting hard on him commuting from Detective Drake's old place, and he simply doesn't have room for you guys in his apartment."

Canina smirked. "So he knew about this the whole time... sly devil."

Flash, meanwhile, had found his way to the television/computer terminal and was pulling up files. "Wow... this is linked into you guys' database, isn't it?" He was looking over a listing of the Rangers' enemies, past and present. "Hey, Gadget? What are these letters next to the names?"

"Oh, that was something I added in for you guys," she informed him. "We've got our various enemies color-coded, by how often we run into them, but since you're color-blind, that wouldn't do you much good. The letters correspond to the colors: red, for frequent problems like Fat Cat, yellow for those we've had trouble with from time to time but not often, and green for people we either haven't run across in quite a while or who we know won't be bothering us again."

Just then, Dale's voice came through a nearby radio. "Hey, Chip? Gadget? Somebody listening?"

Chip stepped over and held down the talk button on the radio. "We hear you, Dale; you and Foxglove find us a case?"

"Sure did, Chipper!" The assembled Rangers could almost hear the grin on Dale's face. "Can you guys meet us at the police station?"

"We're on our way." Chip then turned to Flash. "Well, guys, enjoy your new layout; we'll radio in if we're going to be gone a while." He adjusted his fedora, then looked to the other rodents. "Rescue Rangers, away!"

* * *

Flash had just gotten off the radio with Chip (who had called to inform them that their current case may take a while) when a smallish, cream-colored dog burst into their headquarters, panting heavily. "Please... somebody help me..."

Frenchie smiled as he approached the new arrival. "Zat ees what we are 'ere for, _mademoiselle_; Rescue Rangers Canine Squad at your service!"

"Rescue Rangers?" Her face brightened, wagging her tail a bit as it curled over her back. "Oh, thank goodness! Listen, you guys gotta hide me..."

The gray poodle raised an eyebrow. "Hide you?"

Flash tilted his head curiously. "From who?"

Canina's eyes narrowed in skepticism. "And why?"

"Two mutts outside," the visitor told them. "They've been following me for over an hour. As for why, I have no idea..."

Plato cautiously approached the entrance, the rest of the team in tow. Sure enough, two rather unkempt dogs were a short distance away, sniffing around.

"She went dis way," the first, a bushy sheepdog, said as he pointed toward the tree. "C'mon, we gotta catch her!"

The second animal, a mangy-looking dog who resembled a German shepherd mix, bonked the first in the head. "Are you stupid? Don't you know what dat is?"

"Ummm... a tree?"

"Dat's da headquarters for da Rescue Rangers, you nitwit! If she's hidin' wit dem, she can _stay_ hidin'."

A shudder ran through the sheepdog's frame. "Da boss ain't gonna like dis..."

"We'll tell 'im we had a run-in wit da Rangers an' dey beat us," the mix-breed reassured him. "He'll buy dat."

"I_hope_ he'll buy dat..."

"Don't worry." The second speaker then looked around nervously. "Now let's get outta here before we really _do_ cross da Rangers." He then bolted away from the tree, the sheepdog barreling after him.

"I wonder what that was all about," Plato remarked.

"I don't know, but it smells like a case." Flash smiled as the dogs made their way back into their new headquarters. "You can relax, miss; they're gone."

The cream dog ran up to Flash, nuzzling his side. "Oh, thank you! My name's Angel; what's yours?"

The German shepherd chuckled, a bit nervously. "Um, I'm Flash; this is Canina, Plato, Frenchie, and Que Sera."

"Sera."

"So you have no idea why those disreputable-looking curs were following you?" asked Plato; Angel shook her head, scooting a bit closer to Flash.

"None whatsoever?" Canina's voice was almost a growl, her eyes narrowing further.

"Not a clue," Angel replied, slightly glaring at the former actress. "I was up on the West Side, not too far from Manhattan Wok, when I noticed them come out of a nearby alley and start following me."

"I'd say that alley is the first place to look for clues, then." Flash straightened up, nodding his head toward the exit. "Rescue Rangers, away!"

* * *

Fat Cat leaned back in his chair, regarding some paperwork from the casino's past month of business. He glared over the papers as Mole and Mepps entered unannounced. "What do you two cretins want?"

"Boss, there's someone here to see you," Mepps told him nervously. "Wart an' Snout are watchin' them downstairs."

The feline crime leader laid his papers on his desk, his stare unchanging. "Are you going to tell me who it is, or must we play twenty questions?" he growled.

"Gee, boss, I thought you didn't like playing games..."

Fat Cat rolled his eyes. "I would thwap you for that, you subterranean simpleton, but it's not worth the effort of getting up." He held down an intercom button nearby. "Snout, Wart, show our guests to my office."

A moment later, the elevator doors at the opposite end of the office opened to reveal Snout, leading a short, ugly rat flanked by a lizard and a large mouse, with Wart behind them. "Long time no see, Fatso," the rat hissed.

"Rat Capone," The rotund tabby's tone was one of mock congeniality. "To what do I owe the displeasure?"

"Business," Capone replied. "Can I safely assume that you've recently had visitors of the canine persuasion?"

"This morning," Fat Cat wasn't really surprised by the question; he'd known that Capone had his own network of informants for some time now. "They never got past the lobby; my casino has a strict policy of 'No Dogs Allowed'."

"They didn't get far wit me, either..." The flunkies at the rat's sides simply grinned. "I _did_ manage to get a little bit of info from 'em, though. Seems some mutt out in Brooklyn is lookin' to take over the city's entire animal underground."

"Like_that_ will ever happen," the feline sneered. "They'd have a lot more to contend with than just us..."

"True, but get dis: seems dem same mugs had a little chat wit the Siamese Twins, and now they're runnin' the Twins' operation."

This piqued Fat Cat's curiosity. "What about the Twins themselves?"

Capone shrugged. "From what I hear, they've gone incommunicado..."

"An' nobody's heard from 'em, either."

"Shaddap, Arnold."

"This brings us to the matter at hand." Fat Cat started drumming his fingers together. "What does all this have to do with me?"

The rat stepped forward and leaned one elbow on Fat Cat's desk. "Simple; I'm thinkin' maybe we should pool our resources until this little matter blows over."

The cat waved a paw dismissively. "I wouldn't worry too much about it. The Twins had gone soft of late, and such a movement in the animal underworld would no doubt attract the attention of those bothersome Rescue Rangers."

"If dey wasn't outta town on a case," Capone countered. "Only ones that's left is those mutts dey've got workin' for 'em."

"The so-called Canine Squad?" Fat Cat considered this piece of information for a moment. "You know, Capone, you may be on to something here..."

* * *

The Canine Squad was about to give up their investigation of the alley; a search of the surroundings had so far yielded nothing. Suddenly, Plato stopped short near the rear entrance to the Manhattan Wok. "Half a moment," he muttered, sniffing the threshold curiously. "I think I may have something, fellows..."

The rest of the Squad, plus Angel, gathered around the bulldog. "I've got the scent of those scoundrels that were following Miss Angel," he explained. "They had someone else with them... two cats, I believe; the scents are nearly identical..." He sniffed around a moment, determining a trail. "They came up to this door with the dogs, but only the dogs left. There's something else, too... cloth... and bleach..."

"A laundry bag, maybe?" Canina offered.

"Something tells me ze cats weren't along of zere own choice," Frenchie said thoughtfully.

The others could almost see the light bulb come on over Flash's head. "Wait a sec... while I was looking through the files back at headquarters, I came across something about the Siamese Twins, two cats who run a criminal operation out of a cleaners in Chinatown."

"Maybe you guys should go talk to 'em?" Angel offered.

"Bad idea," the German shepherd replied, shaking his head. "If we just walk into their base of operations, we'd be asking for a fight."

"I know someone who may have some information for us," Plato spoke up, "but I'll have to go alone..."

"Are you sure zat ees wise, _mon ami_?" asked the poodle.

"I have nothing to fear," the bulldog responded. "Bringing you lot with me may be taken as a threat, though."

"Some informant from your flatfoot days?" Canina inquired.

"You might say that..."

"Okay, Plato, you go see what you can dig up," Flash instructed. "The rest of us will take Angel back to headquarters and meet you there."

"It's so kind of you to take care of li'l ol' me," Angel cooed, sidling up beside Flash as they made their way back to Central Park.

"Well, that's what we're here for," Flash told her, the tone of his voice indicating his slight unease. "We _are_ Rescue Rangers, after all..."

"Yeah," Canina added, not bothering to hide the annoyance in her voice, "so don't go readin' anything into it..."

Frenchie grinned beside her. "Ees someone feeling a bit jealous?"

"Shut up, snail-breath..."

* * *

Plato carefully made his way along the docks, heading toward a dilapidated house boat. Many years of police work had taught him to keep all senses alert, especially in a potentially dangerous situation, so he was already aware that he was not alone when his "companion" spoke.

"Long time no see, Plato," the speaker, a brown and white mix-breed, said simply. "This a social call?"

"No, Dodger, it isn't," replied the bulldog, disdain clear in his voice. "I need some information that you and your fellow reprobates might be able to provide."

Dodger grinned at him, hopping down from the pile of crates he'd been laying on. "Info, huh? Funny, your brother told us you had retired from cop work."

"_Half_-brother," Plato growled. "Francis and I only have the same mother; different fathers. At any rate, oddly enough, he was correct; I'm part of the Rescue Rangers now."

"Well, then, I guess it's your lucky day," the street dog told him. "As it happens, one'a the gang owes the Rangers a favor; seems they helped out his uncle way back when." He stretched out in front of the bulldog, crossing his forepaws in front of him. "So, what'cha need?"

"Have you or the others heard anything about some dogs getting involved in the city's animal underworld?"

Dodger thought for a moment. "Come to think of it, Tito was sayin' just yesterday that he'd heard somethin' about a mutt workin' outta the Brooklyn junkyard; supposedly, he's tryin' to take over the crime rackets for the whole city."

Plato looked more than a little surprised. "You mean he plans to overthrow _all_ of the animal crime bosses?"

"That's what Tito said," Dodger replied with a shrug. "You know Tito, though; he exaggerates sometimes."

Plato nodded. "Thank you, Dodger; you've been uncharacteristically helpful."

"Don't mention it," Dodger waved a paw dismissively. "If ya need any backup, just let us know."

* * *

"The Brooklyn junkyard's right on the other side of the bridge, so getting there should be easy," said Canina after Plato had reported his findings.

"The problem is, we have no idea what we'd be walking into," Plato countered. "My source didn't have any details beyond what I've said."

"I would almost be tempted to say leave him be for now," Frenchie put in. "If he succeeds, we have only one pain in ze tail to deal weeth instead of many, and if he fails, eet ees because one of ze othair bosses shut him down."

Flash shook his head. "Not an option; that's not how Rescue Rangers work."

"I said almost..."

"We'll just have to be careful; it's not like it'd be the first time." The German shepherd then turned his attention to the Squad's guest. "Angel, I think you'll be safer if you stay here and wait for us."

Angel shuddered, fear dancing in her wide, blue eyes. "You mean... all by myself?"

Noting the female's reaction, Que Sera muttered something in French to the poodle beside him, who nodded. "_Oui_, good point." He then looked to the others. "If those two were following Anjel because they think she ees a witness, then they 'ave probably been watching ze Tree..."

"... and have most likely determined that the other Rangers are away..." added Plato.

"... and if they see us leave without her..." Flash thought for a moment, then nodded. "Okay, you can come with us, but stick_very_ close; it could be dangerous."

"Oh, that won't be a problem at all," Angel smiled, snuggling up against Flash's foreleg. This elicited a nervous chuckle from Flash and a low growl from Canina.

"Let's get goin', then," the latter spoke up. "The sooner we get to Brooklyn, the sooner we close this case..." As the team filed out ahead of her, she added under her breath, "... and the sooner I get Li'l Miss Buttinski outta my fur..."

The trip to the Brooklyn Bridge was uneventful. As the Canine Squad and their charge made their way across, Plato dropped back, falling in step with Canina. "What's wrong? You've been considerably more snippy than normal."

"I don't wanna talk about it," the former actress snapped.

The bulldog looked at his teammate with genuine concern. "Well, bottling it up isn't helping you or the team... and you certainly haven't done well at hiding it." His gaze drifted for a second to the front of the group. "It isn't just Angel, either; it's Flash, isn't it?"

Canina scoffed. "What makes you think that?"

"Quite simple: though the pair of you have been bickering almost non-stop for days, all of us could tell there was no malice in it. Now, you've grown sullen since shortly after another female has shown an interest in him."

Canina had a retort ready, but she didn't use it. "I don't get it. Nothin's ever been official with us or anythin', and I've had lots of boyfriends in the past, but... I guess I just..."

"You're in love with him." Plato chuckled at Canina's surprised look. "I've had my share of romantic entanglements in the past, you know. Have you tried simply telling him?"

"I..." Canina stammered. "I don't know how. I've gotten too used to havin' everything I need to say typed up on a page in front of me."

"Just say what you feel, and don't worry about whether you think it sounds wrong," the ex-policedog assured her. "As long as it feels right, then it is right."

Canina breathed a deep sigh. "Thanks, Plato; when we wrap this case, Flash an' I are gonna sit down an' have a long chat..."

Engrossed in their conversation, neither Ranger heard the quiet padding of four paws a short distance behind them.

* * *

The front gate of the junkyard was open and apparently unwatched as the canine Rangers slipped in. "Stay tight, guys," Flash instructed, "and keep your eyes, ears, and noses open. No telling what's waiting for us".

The team carefully picked their way along the makeshift canyon formed by the various piles of scrap surrounding them. "I don't like this," Plato muttered.

Angel was in what seemed to have become her usual position as Flash's shadow. "It _is_ awful quiet..."

Frenchie nodded. "_Oui_, too quiet..."

"Don't say that!" Canina hisses sharply.

"Why not?"

"In every one of my movies, that line was always followed by something bad happening..."

As if on cue, a loud creaking sound drew the Rangers' attention upwards, just in time to see the cage being dropped on them. Angel was the only one who managed to jump aside and avoid being caught. The resounding thud of the cage hitting the ground was quickly followed by laughter... coming from several dogs standing atop some of the junk piles. This, in turn, was followed by the arrival of a large Doberman from around a nearby corner.

"Well, well, lookit what we caught," he chuckled, then turned to the cream-colored dog who had evaded the trap. "Nice work, Angel."

Angel scoffed as she dusted herself off. "To be honest, Kreese, if I'd known catching the Rescue Rangers would be _this_ easy, I would've suggested it sooner." This brought surprised looks from three of the trapped Rangers; Canina merely narrowed her eyes and growled, while Que Sera's outward expression was as unchanged as ever.

"You mean, you..." Flash stuttered in shock. "You were in on this the whole time?"

The smaller female regarded the German shepherd with a smirk. "Oh, come on, you didn't actually think all that lovey-dovey stuff was for real, did you?"

Before Flash could reply, Kreese called up to the dogs on the junk piles. "Boys, take 'em to the incinerator; looks like the menu for the animals at the Central Park Zoo tomorrow is gonna feature roasted Ranger!"

Kreese's henchdogs descended from their perches and started digging around the cage, revealing a carefully-concealed cart. Angel, meanwhile, approached the Doberman, defiance in her eyes. "Now wait just a minute... catch the Rescue Rangers and keep 'em out of the way, sure, but we never agreed to kill them."

"Can you think of a better way to make sure they stay out of the way?" Kreese asked with a smirk.

"Can _you_ think of a better way to bring the other Rangers down on our heads?" the female growled back. "It's a moot point anyway; if we fire up the incinerator for your little barbecue, Lloyd's gonna come looking to see what's going on."

"Blast it, I forgot about the human watchman," Kreese muttered.

"Gee, big surprise," Angel shot back. "That's why you could never get anywhere on your own. The only reason you're where you are now is because of me."

"The only reason _you're_ where _you_ are is 'cause your great-grandaddy's a legend among street dogs." Kreese's tone of voice made it clear that he was losing his patience. "The fact that you look just like your gran'ma _and_ have her name hasn't hurt, either."

Angel's next verbal salvo was cut off by the approach of a rather thin Russian wolfhound. "Pardon my intrusion, fearless leaders, but we have a bit of a situation."

The Doberman growled as he turned to the new arrival. "Now what?"

The wolfhound fidgeted slightly before he spoke. "It would appear that Rat Capone and Fat Cat have, at least temporarily, united in the cause of mutual defense. The battered remains of the groups we sent after them are returning now."

Angel sighed. "Guess we'd better find out what happened. We'll decide what to do with _them_ by morning." She then turned to the dogs surrounding the Rangers' prison. "I want two guards on that cage the entire night; nobody comes within ten feet of it without Kreese and me both being here... _including_ Kreese or me."

The first pair of guards took their positions as the remaining dogs headed back toward the entrance. Flash slumped to the ground, laying his head on his paws. "I can't believe I fell for all that..." he said dejectedly.

"Do not be too 'arsh with yourself, _mon capitan_," Frenchie offered. "She 'ad all of us fooled, didn't she, Que Sera?"

"Sera," the dustmop dog intoned sadly.

Canina sat beside the Squad's leader and rested a paw on his shoulder. "Even _I_ didn't think she was setting us up, and I didn't like her from the get-go."

Flash gave her a dry chuckle. "Yeah, I could tell..." He sighed as he sat up, facing his female teammate. "Truth is, she made me nervous 'cause I really thought she liked me..." Canina started to look away, but the German shepherd rested a paw on hers. "... and I didn't know how to tell her that my heart's already spoken for."

The actress turned Ranger blinked twice, a small grin creeping into her features. "Wait a sec... you mean...?"

Flash nodded. "I've wanted to tell you for a while now, but I just didn't know how to do it; I guess I've just gotten too used to having everything I say scripted..."

"We both have, darlin'..." Canina then leaned forward and nuzzled the side of his neck, a gesture he happily returned.

"Ah, _l'amour_..." Frenchie sighed, unintentionally eliciting chuckles from all of his fellow Rangers.

Canina looked into Flash's eyes, her grin having spread into a beaming smile. "I guess we're officially a couple now, huh?"

"Mm-hmm... for as long as we have..."

Plato cleared his throat before he spoke. "I hate to throw a wet blanket on a tender moment, but judging by the position of the moon, I'd say that's about six hours..."

The pair of guards posted to the Rangers' makeshift cell sat quietly; it was difficult to tell if they paid any attention to their captives' conversation or not. After a moment, a movement from a short distance away caught both's notice. "Who goes dere?" one, the same sheepdog who'd appeared outside Ranger Headquarters, called to the shadows. A slender, chocolate colored female dog stepped into the moonlight and batted her eyes.

"I think she likes you, Clunk," the second guard, the Russian wolfhound from a few moments prior, told his companion.

"Nah..." the sheepdog shook his head, then his tone turned hopeful. "Really?"

The wolfhound nodded. "Go get her, big guy."

"But... Angel said..."

"Do not worry; I will say nothing. Now hurry, before you miss your chance."

"Oh boy!" The sheepdog bounded toward where the female had ducked back into the shadows as the wolfhound chuckled, disregarding the sounds of a short scuffle that quickly followed as he spoke to his prisoners. "That is one of the two easiest ways to distract Clunk; the other way works better, but I did not have anything shiny handy." He then began checking the cage carefully.

Plato arched an eyebrow curiously. "What, pray tell, are you doing?"

"I am getting you out of here," he replied simply.

"Not to sound ungrateful or anythin', but why?" asked Canina.

"Causing trouble for other criminals is fine; hurting people who have done no wrong is where Ilya Mikhailovitch Cranshenko draws line." He then snorted in frustration. "Drat, no door..."

"How can we help?" The chocolate colored female approached the cage, now accompanied by a chihuahua, a bulldog, and a Great Dane.

"Don' worry 'bout dat walkin' hay stack," the chihuahua grinned. "He takin' a li'l nap now."

Plato chuckled. "I thought you looked familiar, Rita. When did you lot get here?"

"Right after you did," the female smiled back. "You must be losin' your touch, Plato; Oliver's been followin' you guys since you left Central Park."

"An analysis of my half-brother's capacities must await the more pressing matter before us," said the second bulldog. "To wit: the extraction of him and his compatriots from their current predicament."

"Quite so, Francis, quite so," the former policedog nodded. "However, as Ilya has pointed out, there seems to be no door."

"We could knock it ovair," offered Frenchie.

Flash shook his head. "The noise would draw the rest of Angel & Kreese's gang."

Ilya thought a moment, then nodded. "Francis, Tito, help the Rangers lift one side of the cage; Rita, Einstein, and I will catch the opposite side and keep the noise to a minimum."

* * *

The criminal leaders had made their way into the scrap canyon leading to the junk yard's entrance. Kreese paced in frustration as he regarded the bruised and beaten group before him. "You flea-brains wanna explain to me just how you got beat by a bunch'a cats and rodents?"

One of the group limped forward. "They wasn't just cats an' rodents, boss; they had nobles with 'em: 'bout a half-dozen wolves an' a fox."

"That's impossible," Angel snorted derisively. "There aren't any wild canine species anywhere near here, except the zoo, and they're locked up."

"I dunno," Kreese sounded concerned. "The legends of the wolf pack in Central Park..."

"... are exactly that: legends," Angel cut him off. "I'll believe it when I see it."

"Then head down to Fat Cat's place," the injured henchdog snapped. "We sure as heck ain't."

"Great job'a keepin' morale up, you two," a voice called from atop one side of the canyon; its owner was a brown and white mix-breed laying on the hood of a ruined car with an orange cat sitting beside him.

"Dodger," Kreese growled up at him. "What're you doing here?"

Dodger lifted one paw and glanced at it absently. "Oh, we just came by to help out some friends..."

Angel gave him a sarcastic smirk. "Just when did we become friends?"

"And just when did I say I was talkin' about you?" Dodger's quip was followed immediately by several dogs howling "Ride of the Valkyries" in unison.

"The Rangers... scatter!" Before the Doberman's instruction could be carried out, several scrap cars and assorted other junk fell into the canyon, cutting it off on both ends. When the dust settled, the entire group was trapped, and Dodger had been joined by the rest of his gang, the Canine Squad, and the wolfhound.

"Well, that's that," Flash smiled. "Thanks for the help, you guys."

"No problem," the cat grinned up at him. "Uncle Spunky couldn't tell us enough when I was little to lend the Rangers a paw whenever we could."

Ilya was looking over the group below them. "Wait... one is missing." It was then that all of them spotted a flash of cream-colored fur past the barricade bolting for the entrance.

"Mine," Canina snarled, lunging after the fleeing figure.

* * *

Angel had almost made it out of the junk yard when she was halted by Canina landing in front of her. "Leaving so soon, short stuff?"

The villainess grinned, her eyes slightly narrowed. "So it's just you an' me, huh? I like my odds..."

The former actress stood firm, her head lowered and her eyes locked on Angel's. "You've gotten on my nerves since the minute I first saw you..." her muzzle pulled back in a wicked grin. "I'm gonna enjoy this."

A quiet chuckle blew through Angel's nostrils. "You sure someone of your advanced years can keep up?"

"Advanced ye... oh that's it, you're goin' down!" Canina dove at the smaller dog, but Angel jumped over her, bouncing off her head as she passed and breaking for the entrance. The Ranger made a quick scan of her surroundings, then grabbed a hubcap in her teeth and flung it, forcing Angel to stop short as it struck directly in front of her.

"Nice toss, La Fur," Angel called over her shoulder. "Too bad you missed."

"You sure about that?"

That was when Angel heard something rattling above her and looked up. She had just enough time to mutter, "Aw, stink," before an old birdcage fell on her head and trapped her.

* * *

"This isn't the end, Rangers," Angel growled as her cage was tossed down among the dogs trapped in the canyon. "I'll get even with you some day!"

"I rather doubt that," Canina told her. "Y'see, a friend of ours has some connections down at the pound; they'll make sure we don't hear from you for a long time." She then looked around at the others. "Where'd everybody go?"

"Dodger and his friends already left for home," Plato explained. "Perhaps they aren't such bad sorts after all..."

"I think perhaps we should head home as well," said Frenchie, who then turned to the wolfhound. "What about you, _Monsieur_ Cranshenko? Where will you go?"

"Maybe he'd like to sign on with us," Flash hinted with a grin.

"_Spaceeba, tovaritch_," Ilya chuckled, "but my path lies in a different direction. With any luck, it will cross yours again some day; _do svidaniya_, Rescue Rangers."

As the wolfhound trotted off, Canina smiled. "Well I, for one, am pleasantly surprised."

"That we wrapped this case so quickly?" asked Plato.

"That we had this much help?" offered Flash.

"No," said Canina with a wink. "We got through a case an' I didn't have to put up with that whole 'years and years' bit even once."


End file.
